Editor and writer Inger Boxsem's world was shattered by burnout and a prolonged depression. During her ordeal, she filled notebooks with raw insights—from the cutthroat TV industry where she thrived for years, her warm but chaotic family life, her clinic admission, to her battles with antidepressants. In this honest reflection, Inger shares whether those around her truly saw how ill she was. Discover her powerful story.
The day I went to the clinic, winter set in. Just a week earlier, I was raking leaves in a t-shirt, warmed by the low sun.
This Tuesday morning as I left, the children shivered when I rose, and the house stayed chilly despite half an hour of heating. The sounds of departing cars and mothers calling to their kids were muffled by thick fog blanketing the street.
That fog lingered on our drive south; the promised sun never appeared, and drizzle morphed into what felt like snow. We barely spoke.
"What crappy weather."
"The kids were tough, right?"
"Hannah said she's fed up with not seeing you for so long." At South Limburg's edge, we paused at a barrier. The clinic's drive was visible, but the entrance hid in fog—no hills, no copper beeches, no sheep.
'No man's land,' Gijs said.
My strongest memory of arriving isn't the surreal sense of watching someone else's movie or sizing up fellow patients, wondering if it was coke or depression. It's the smell. As a nurse—not the stereotypical kind—led us down the corridor to my room, that unmistakable hospital odor hit me. We passed a med counter with a shutter and nurses' station. Only next day did I realize I'd collect my pills there under their firm, fair watch. A patient moving rooms delayed us; her space had a wheeled, adjustable hospital bed. Patient, I thought—patient.
How did I end up here?
From: Bad Circumstances (2021), Inger Boxsem
Meaning in an Overwrought World
Bregtje's Depression Story
Three Mindfulness Exercises for Burnout Recovery
